Out, out brief candle
by Umbraphage
Summary: History is made of records from days long past to uncover the roots of the living and remind the living of past mistakes. However, many forget that history is as mankind makes it. LGBTQA pairings and characters, POV Alternating, and explores the fall of the Old Kingdom. Cross-posted to Ao3.
1. Prologue: 5014 AKF

**My biggest question is why y'all are over here and not Ao3. But alas, that's bias on my part. I posted this over a year ago on Ao3, gave up for awhile because life is hell and I was hesitant to pursue this before ETD was released, and now I'm back.**

 **Since Rin announced that she won't be continuing Ascension anymore, I just decided to return to this fic and fly with my creative liberties. As a rising game developer myself, I understand her position and decision to move on from this series onto larger projects, so I ask that you don't attack her over this.**

 **Be sure to follow the Ao3 version because I have a chapter dedicated to the new lore I've developed, and please leave a comment with your opinion! I don't bite, I promise.**

* * *

It was almost the same as he remembered it years ago. Golden sand stretching far and beyond the eye can see, the fortress made of mud brick that surrounded the capital city, and the hot sun beating down on the landscape.

The young man hidden beneath a drab brown hooded cloak tilted his head to squint into the bright sun's rays as he sat atop a brown and white mottled steed, a wavy black lock of hair shifting away from his almond shaped cerulean eyes. He pursed his lips as a feeling of nostalgia and melancholy burdened his heart.

Adeshia may be the same, but even the sun could not warm his heart again like it did years ago as a child. He may be twenty seven years old now, but time as it passed for him felt like millennia. The radiating heat from the sun and the sand underneath felt almost... Empty.

The man urged his steed to continue ahead to the gates of the mud brick fortress, bidding the city guards a greeting and prayers after flashing a royal seal as he went. He took a deep breath, taking all the scents of the marketplace once he entered. He dismounted his steed and removed his hood with a faint smile on his lips.

 _Home at last._

The man led his steed onwards, maneuvering through the throngs of people and taking solace in hearing his native tongue spoken again. He observed everyone that surrounded him as he passed, meticulously taking note of all the faces. All of them were unfamiliar, just as no one recognized him. Though he couldn't help but feel slightly saddened by this, but it was only to be expected. It has been over a decade since he'd last been here.

"May Neema bless your path, young traveler!" An elderly lady, hunched slightly and leaning against a staff, blessed the man as he passed.

"May Neema bless yours as well, yaja'min." He smiled at the elderly lady, formally greeting her by title and with a bow of his head.

"I have not seen you in this city before. Where do you hail from?" The elder questioned as she slowly took a seat beneath the tent of her market stand. The man quietly took note of her struggle to sit and quickly helped lower herself into the chair. "Thank you, yara'mel."

"I was actually born and raised here in this very city." He responded to her inquiry quietly. "I left for about ten years to study the arcane arts in Ildis."

"Indeed?" The woman's pale blue eyes widened. She spoke raspily, "Then you must've been well respected by Queen Calida herself if she allowed you to travel so far north to Ildis. That is not an expense to scoff at."

He laughed. "Even Queen Calida was surprised at the sea fare and the education fare at the academy just for a lonely simpleton like I. I am very grateful to have been able to study the arcane arts."

"You are very humble. You are a very respectable young man." The woman complimented. Before the man could refuse the compliment, she commented, "Sometimes I wish I had the chances you did to study the arcane arts when I was young…"

The man's eyebrows raised significantly. "You too have the enna'jane?"

She nodded, her smile emphasizing her wizened face."Yes, yes. Inborn magic. My inner heart magic is healing from the earth. I've only learned to harness a portion of it but I have never been able to become a master of it."

"For learning how to harness it on your own is a feat alone, yaja'min." The man couldn't help but be in awe of the elder woman. He has not met many who were able to control magic without a formal education.

"You certainly know how to impress a lady, yara'mel." The woman cackled jokingly. The man laughed with her.

"It is true though, yaja'min. Not many can control their magic without a mentor."

The woman became quiet once again, fixing a perspicacious gaze on the man. When he began to feel uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of the woman, she spoke, as if in explanation, "I have had this ability to see within the hearts of others. I see their heart, their character, and the magic that accompanies it."

The man was uncertain of how he should respond, and remained silent for a couple moments. Since he remained silent, the woman continued.

"Once several years ago when I was young I met this youthful noble. The magic in his heart was faint but I could tell it was like no other magic I've seen. It was a pure white and almost alive as if it had a spirit of its own, quite unlike the elemental magicks I have seen in others. But his heart, this dark black hole of nothing, had twisted that magic so much. I suppose that it's only to be expected of a noble.

"Your heart reminds me of his. However, that darkness doesn't exist in you. Your heart is bright, curious, and very old. So, what of you, yara'mel? What is your enna'jane?"

The man swallowed as a sudden realization hit him. Instead of answering her question, he said, "This ability of yours… It's enka'jane. You can see the souls of others."

"Soul magic, ah." The woman spoke, rather unsurprised.

"You're not… Er, surprised by that notion?" The man outright stared at the woman as if she was insane.

"Should I be?"

"Soul magic is banned in all of Arunia. It's considered a black magic." The man said cautiously.

"Well, am I causing harm by using it?"

"No?"

"Then it is not a black magic." The woman shook her head. "The whole ordeal with black magic and white magic is complete nonsense. Why should one form of magic be banned if it isn't inherently evil?"

"That is a question that should be taken to the high mages of Ildis." The man mused. "I do agree with you on that notion."

"Now that I have answered your questions, I'd like to hear your answer to mine." The woman subtly demanded. The man hid a sigh at the fact that he couldn't slip past her perceptions.

"What you saw in my heart… That is soul magic. My enna'jane is soul-based healing." The man reluctantly replied.

"You seem to be careful to hide it."

"That's because I would be executed if others found out."

"Then why were you not executed earlier? The mages must have a way of discovering your enna'jane, do they not?"

The man smiled nostalgically, slightly amused at how shrewd the woman was. "They did find my enna'jane, but they discovered it as water-based. I studied that magic during my time at the academy, but when I graduated, I discovered a ritual…"

"Necromancy." The woman guessed. The man blinked at her, struck by how fast she figured him out. Before he could question her, she said, "Necromancy is the art of the soul, yes? So you must have used a ritual to change your heart."

The man nodded. "Yes, however this ritual I used didn't just change my heart. You see, once a person dies, their heart- or, rather, soul- is reused. At some point, their spirits are reincarnated and reborn into another being. This ritual allows the soul access to all its previous lives. In my previous life, I was a necromancer."

"Back in the time of the Old Kingdom, then?" The woman concluded. The man affirmed her words with a single nod. "That explains why your heart seems so old."

"Five thousand years does that, yes." The man hummed. There was another moment of solemn silence.

"Yara'mel, it does seem strange that fate has led you here and we speak so much as if we are old friends." The woman spoke. "It's as if we've known each other long before this day."

The man was taken aback for a moment, not once observing this fact. "Indeed."

The woman smiled with a chuckle, "Perhaps we might've known each other in a past life. But time will only tell." The man nodded solemnly, and the woman changed the subject. "You must be here on a journey, yes?"

"Yes, it is so." The man agreed, noting the sun was lower on the horizon as he glanced over his shoulder. "It's… Very important that I finish my journey, yaja'min."

"Then I shall hold you no longer, yara'mel." The woman spoke, patting the man's shoulder. "Before you leave, what is your name?"

"Xavier, yaja'min." The man smiled at the elder woman.

"Remember me as Ernesta. I bid you good luck on your journey, Xavier, for I fear that even the gods may not be able to help you."

The man, Xavier, was solemn again as he nodded, taking her words as a warning. "Thank you, yaja'Ernesta. I am glad to have met you in this life."

"Until the next time we meet, yara'Xavier."

Xavier continued on his ways, his heart uplifted and slightly less empty than it was before.


	2. Eilazar: 37 BKF

**Christ, so many em dashes. I should probably do editing again when I'm writing the next chapter.**

* * *

The sun was bright and the air was cool with the newfound spring in Valond. A youthful Moon Elf found himself gazing at the white, translucent petals carried away by the breeze from the trees surrounding him, his face tranquil and pensive. A lock of his long black hair was pulled from his low ponytail and brushed against his face, but he made no move to push it back.

Today was a good day, he would say. All was calm, and it was the marking that time only goes on. It was his first milestone in his magic education; he will soon move on to become successful. The elf smiled at his thought, after all his work over the years had paid off.

Abruptly, the air surrounding felt freezing to the skin as he found himself drenched in ice cold water. His deep blue robes clinging to his skin and heavy tomes soaked in water, he slowly but ominously turned to find the perpetrator as water dripped from his deep violet skin. He was prepared to glare holes into the whoever had the audacity to summon ice water onto him—

And immediately wavered slightly when he immediately recognized the offenders as the same gang of four Moon Elves that have constantly been hunting him down wherever just to crush his hopes and dreams— Or just ruin his life entirely.

The leader of them, and the one who attacked in the first place, was none other than the blonde haired, silver skinned Aeorreth Morthil, probably one of the most politically powerful students at the Academy of the Arcane Arts. Always rubbing it into others' faces all the time too, with his smug behavior and arrogant blue eyes that peer down from above his nose. Also a known mage for having the ability to control both water in its _Thallan_ form and soul magic.

Then, Iyalin Sailluhn, a mage who was soon to graduate the Academy. He would not be continuing his time at the academy considering he had already mastered fire, in its _Thallan_ form, and alchemy. Always kisses up to Aeorreth— The elf would not be surprised if the kissing—ass package includes sexual relations, he thought snidely.

As for the other two, the elf would be surprised if they had their own brains. They never spoke beyond taunting him, and would always fail written homework and exams without cheating. It was remarkable how they even made it this far to even graduate. They were mediocre mages at best. The elf can't even remember their names; they were just that unremarkable.

Despite this, the elf highly doubted he would win in a scuffle between one of him and four of them. Not just because of the number he calculated, but that fact that he is a mere alchemist unequipped with potions and a soul mage who won't be mastering the soul magic until he graduates with a degree in alchemy and able to move on to necromancy apprenticeship.

"Oh, that was you, Karaehel? I apologize profusely! I thought you were a marsh monster at first." Aeorreth said in that awfully smooth, snide voice. The elf, Eilazar Karaehel, was not pleased at the immature comment, immediately picturing the aforementioned monster made completely out of mud and slime. Honestly, could Aeorreth not come up with something more intelligent to say?

"I think we both know that is bullshit, Morthil." Eilazar said dryly, wiping excess water from his face, cerulean eyes hard.

"What do you mean by that?" Aeorreth replied innocently.

"Are you calling Aeorreth a liar, Karaehel?" Iyalin sneered, flames forming in his hand.

"You will regret picking a fight with Lord Morthil." One of the silent elves spoke, ready to take the offensive. The other one only silently nodded.

Eilazar felt fear rise up to his throat as he stared back at presumably his daunting end. He pushed it back down and steeled himself, replying coolly, "Your 'Lord Morthil' has been a liar all his life."

Aeorreth narrowed his eyes at Eilazar. "That's right, you unworthy little scum—"

" _Hey!_ " A boisterous voice bellowed from their left, and suddenly a large summoned tidal wave crashed into the offending elves, including the 'Lord Morthil' himself. Eilazar couldn't bring himself to laugh as he stared with a deadpan at the scene in front of him.  
Of course it would be Draken Therath to come to his rescue.

Once the tidal wave disappeared and Iyalin and Aeorreth were about to counterattack, their robes were promptly set on fire despite their state of being soaked.  
...And, of course, Gabriel Vyrreth Morrylthar. Where would he be now without his two best friends? Probably dead, Eilazar sighed at his own incompetence.  
The offending elves fled the scene after attempting to put out the fire with more water but failing, presumably to tell them off to a teacher— Like they always do, thought Eilazar bitterly. Eilazar suddenly found himself being checked worriedly over by his black haired best friend, his pale green eyes serious and stark against his grey-blue skin, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed in concern.

"Are you alright, Eilazar?" Gabriel asked softly, his long nimble fingers brushing a strand of Eilazar's wet hair from his small face.

Eilazar's mind wandered for a moment as he recalled that once a long time ago in their teenage years, he and Gabriel were barely acquaintances. He and Draken had always wondered if Gabriel was truly a mage, since the quiet elf never showed a trace of emotion. There was always this cold expression on Gabriel's face, in which he and Draken would suspect that Gabriel must've been perpetually angry. Nowadays, Gabriel would convey his emotions more often with the slight changes in his eye expressions, or the rare smile— And a rather striking smile it was.

Eilazar looked up to meet the taller elf's eyes with an amused smile, "I don't think it's me you should be worrying about, Gabriel. Didn't you use the Eternal Flame on Morthil and Sailluhn?"

"It was called for." A faint smile formed on Gabriel's lips as the taller elf took a step back while brushing his own wavy, neck length black hair from his own narrow, but handsome face as another breeze blew past.

"Lazar, what did you do to piss off Morthil this time around? And on graduation day, more less?" The pale, long—haired redhead commented from behind Gabriel with a smirk.

Eilazar rolled his eyes. "You'd be surprised, but it's really simple, Draken. I just exist."

Draken laughed, reaching out a muscular arm to clap Eilazar on his shoulder. "At this rate you'll be catching the eyes of young maidens all around as the unexpected nemesis of the great Master Aeorreth Morthil!"

Eilazar grimaced, remembering then that of course he will have to continue to deal with Aeorreth— After all, they both will be in a necromancer apprenticeship. "Right…"

"I believe that all three of us are Morthil's nemeses." Gabriel corrected with a sigh as he crossed his arms.

"You're right." Draken agreed. "But he won't be able to touch us."

Eilazar was almost thankful for Draken's encouragement but Gabriel spoke.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. His father is Peter Thorin Morthil. The leader of the Royal Necromancy Order."

Great. The Morrylthar pessimism hits. Eilazar deflated significantly.

"You're point? All of our families are pretty powerful too." Draken shrugged nonchalantly. "We're talking Morrylthar, Karaehel, and Therath vs a single Morthil here."

"Exactly. Morthil. Our families haven't held a seat in the Royal Necromancer Order in generations."

"Your father and his before were necromancers."

"That's only two generations. Morthil has held a seat for several centuries."

Eilazar groaned internally. Always politics.

"Gabriel, Gabriel. Look." Draken drew out a sigh, putting his hands on both of the pessimistic elf's shoulders. He stared hard into cold, pale green eyes with his own droopy blue-violet ones. "What is your name?"

"I don't see your point—"

"What _is_ your name?"

Gabriel sighed, rolling his eyes. "Gabriel Vyrreth Morrylthar."

"What are you?"

Eilazar smiled slightly, remembering the last several instances of this occurring.

"... 'An incredibly talented fire mage and necromancer…'" The dark haired elf bit out.

"No, the whole thing." Draken shook his head adamantly.

Gabriel looked tortured at this point. "'An incredibly...sexy...elf, talented...hotter than hot...fire mage, and prodigal necromancer…'"

"And?"

"'And a bloody rich Morrylthar.'" Gabriel sighed.

"You got it, ya brooding elf!" Draken laughed, stepping back. "No one can touch you, not even Morthil. If you're on our side, I don't see why we should be worried."

"But still—"

Draken deflected Gabriel with his following nonchalant statement, "I don't see how your cute sister can stand you."

Eilazar facepalmed.

" _...Excuse me?_ " Gabriel's face darkened as he scowled at the boisterous redhead.

Draken gave a sidelong glance to Eilazar. "Shit, I shouldn't have said that, should I?"

Eilazar deadpanned, "No." Afterall, it was no secret Gabriel was protective of his younger sister.

"I'm leaving then." Draken swiftly made his leave—Rather, hightailed out of there— disappearing through the trees.

Eilazar looked back to Gabriel, expecting the broody elf to hunt down Draken to burn his robes like the last time. But Gabriel made no move to follow Draken.  
Gabriel's darkened green eyes only slid over to meet the curious gaze of Eilazar, strangely intense. The still-soaked elf shivered slightly under his scrutinizing gaze. He felt heat rush to his face, and undoubtedly, his face must've flushed a darker purple, to the point his freckles may be significantly less noticeable.

"Er, Gabriel?"

"Eilazar." Gabriel closed the distance between them two, and Eilazar gulped. The taller elf pressed the back of his hand to Eilazar's forehead while his other hand rested on Eilazar's upper arm. "Are you certain you're alright?"

Eilazar's mouth felt suddenly dry and his entire body felt hot, a stark difference from how cold he felt earlier. He couldn't help but notice how close Gabriel stood. "Y-Yes…"

"You're still soaked." The dark haired elf commented. His eyes slid close and Eilazar felt a warmth spread through his body.

The next moment, Eilazar was dry. Gabriel had taken a step back, and the air felt cool again.

"Wow." Eilazar commented, taking a look at his dried robes. "You didn't burn it like last time."

Gabriel laughed.

* * *

"For once, we didn't get detention!" Draken was awestruck as he, Gabriel, and Eilazar strode down the stone corridor from the headmistress's office after yet another lecture about no fighting on academy grounds. "Is the world ending?"

"No it's just our time at this academy." Gabriel said.

Eilazar and Draken fell quiet as a certain sadness struck them.

"Way to ruin the mood, Broody." Draken commented. "Think about it, we actually have to handle adult responsibilities! And no more pranks on Morthil!"

"We weren't already handling adult responsibilities?" Gabriel drawled, looking upon Draken as if he were an idiot.

"Sometimes I think your life is just really sad, Gabe." Draken shook his head in pity.

Eilazar commented, in attempt to brighten the moment, "But hey, at least we are now necromancers. Well, necromancers-in-training."

"I bet 20 iyaan the Grand Master Peter Morthil will take you under his wing, Broody." Draken smiled.

"You truly overestimate my family's societal ranking and the Morthil's ability to not be corrupt and biased." Gabriel sighed, slightly irritated with Draken.

"Oh, hit a sore spot, did I—"

"Shut it before I burn your hair this time."

"Why must you be such a pessimist?" Draken grimaced at the threat, unconsciously touching his own hair to ensure it was still intact. "The Grand Master isn't like his predecessors, right? Even he should be able to see more potential in you than his brat son."

"For the past several centuries since the first Morthil, the Grand Master apprenticeship has been hereditary." Gabriel insisted with a tone of finality, eyes downcast.

"Broody, last I checked, this isn't an enforced law." Draken pushed. "Not to mention there has been a change, I heard from my uncle himself that the Grand Master is seeking elsewhere for an apprentice—"

" _Enough._ " The brooding elf's voice was sharp and harsh. Gabriel scowled at Draken, fist clenched as he raised his cold eyes to meet Draken's. The redhead flinched. "Tradition is tradition. It will not change, even if I'm truly more capable to Aeorreth Morthil, or even if I'm more capable than the Grand Master Peter Thorin Morthil himself."

Draken wisely didn't push more on the subject, raising his hands in surrender. "Hey, okay. Whatever you say."

Eilazar was quiet throughout the exchange, finding himself morose and solemn. He remembered that once, years ago, Gabriel didn't use to be this negative. In fact, as youths, he distinctly remembered Gabriel commenting that he wanted to be so much more than his father, that he wanted to become the Grand Master himself to reform the Order and serve the royal family. Later, Lord Morrylthar discovered Gabriel's dreams and quickly crushed them underfoot—

 _"Father, why?"_

 _"Power isn't merely achieved through will and ability alone, Vyrreth. You won't be able to become great like the Morthils— You need connection. Our family simply isn't powerful enough."_

 _"But—"_

 _"Refrain yourself! This is settled! You cannot and will not deviate. End your insipid fantasies at once."_

"So, Gabriel, who do you think will choose you?" Eilazar asked, in attempt to diffuse the tension.

Gabriel let out a breath. "Most likely my father, or perhaps Lord Sailluhn."

Eilazar couldn't help but cringe at the name. The taller elf looked sympathetic, lightly setting his warm hand on Gabriel's shoulder.  
He explained softly, "Iyalin Sailluhn isn't able to take Lord Sailluhn's seat in the Order, and nor are his brothers. My father told me that he expressed interest in taking me as an apprentice."

Eilazar nodded, albeit warily, "Makes sense."

"Really, can't either of you just go with the flow? I can't care less about who I get as long as I get to master necromancy." Draken cut in with an eyeroll. "Honestly, you're so anal."

"That's because we actually do something with our lives and make our parents proud. What does that say about you?" Gabriel said snidely.

Draken narrowed his eyes. "Oh, you're really gonna do this, are you?" He began pushing up the sleeves of his dark robes.

"You're really not intimidating for a Therath." Gabriel sneered. Draken scowled, his arm reaching out and snatching the front of Gabriel's robes in a fist. He yanked Gabriel toward him, so that he can glare down at the pessimistic elf.

"Well, fight me." Draken snarled.

"Maybe I will, since clearly I'm the better mage here." Gabriel smirked, not at all daunted by the height difference and how agitated Draken was.

"Guys—" Eilazar frowned. Things were degenerating fast.

"You're an ass." A whirlpool of water began forming from beneath Draken, twisting and swirling into several tendrils of liquid and pointed toward Gabriel. Scales of ice flaked into existence from the tendrils, threatening to pierce the fire mage like shards of glass.

"Great job, what a great discovery after so many years." Gabriel drawled, nonchalant.

Draken sneered, "What a weak insult— Unsurprising, since you're too weak to stand up to your own father. You're too weak to break your own chains but you still point fingers and taunt others for not doing anything with their life. News flash, you're fucking hypocrite like every Morrylthar before you."

" _Fuck you._ " Gabriel's face morphed with rage, flames forming in his hands.

Shit, Eilazar felt himself begin to sweat nervously. An angry Gabriel only promises an apocalypse.

"Guys, stop it!" He yelled, but didn't move to pull them apart. After all, his two best friends were mages, and he was but a mere alchemist at this point.  
But of course, like always, they ignored his pleas. Eilazar, before he could stop himself, felt hot irritation— The three of them were friends for years and cared deeply for each other, but Gabriel and Draken seem to be at each other's throats at some point or another. Really, couldn't they set aside their dissent and move on?

"Wouldn't you like to—" Draken smirked. Eilazar rolled his eyes this time— Only Draken could crack an innuendo at times like this.

"Boys!" There was a shocking boom that reverberated through the very air itself, and gargantuan sharp shards of ice rose up from the ground into the air between the fighting mages. The two were not quick enough to back away from each other, and the front of Gabriel's robes were torn by the sharp point of the ice and Draken found himself cursing when the shards grazed his hand and left a burning slash.

Eilazar sighed. Of course, it was Headmistress Arya. The elderly austere elven woman peered harshly at Draken and Gabriel from behind her square framed spectacles, her peppered gray and white hair pulled back in a pristine bun. With a simple flick of her wrist and a swish of her green and gold robes, the ice retreated and disappeared completely.

The Headmistress' magic skill was nothing to scoff at. She was the only Sun Elf to have mastered magic to her level, and everyone's eyes couldn't help but follow her lithe, tanned form wherever she went, since her appearance was such a stark difference from everyone else. She was exceptionally strong in her control from water and earth in its both their Thallan and Tamra form, and was able to control fire, air, and soul pretty well. Not to mention she contributed much to the alchemist community with her research in the past few centuries.

"Fighting not once but twice on your graduation day!" Headmistress Arya hissed. Draken winced at her wrath while Gabriel only looked downcast at the ground shamefully. "Give me one reason, one, to not hold you back another year!"

"I'm sorry, Headmistress." Draken murmured through gritted teeth, his bleeding hand clenched in his other.

"What are you two thinking? This is shameful! Morrylthar, you are the top of your class! Fighting out of all things!"

Gabriel apologized quietly and more sincerely than Draken, "I apologize for my behavior, Headmistress. This was my fault, I shouldn't have provoked Draken."

Headmistress Arya deflated with a sigh, shaking her head. "You two have been provoking each other since before you started at this academy. Honestly, you two are exactly like your fathers— Those two were constantly at each other's throats as youths." She turned her piercing gaze to Eilazar. "Karaehel."

"Yes, Headmistress?" The nervous elf straightened, gulping in fear of what the severe woman will tell him.

"You should keep an eye on these two." Her eyes softened in amusement. "Times are changing, especially since the three of you are advancing onward. I want you to protect them from harm and protect them from each other."

"Yes, Headmistress. With all due respect, I've been doing that for several years." Eilazar smiled.

The headmistress chuckled. "Of course you have been. But I am just pointing out that you may have to up your game."

"I'll keep that in mind." Eilazar relaxed. Draken grumbled in the background, discontent with their exchange.

"Therath!" The Headmistress fixed a glare on the redhead. Draken stared warily back. "Your hand."

Draken sighed, complying as he extended his injured hand. The elder took his hand into hers, her right hand hovering above the gash. She tutted as a warm light was emitted from her palm, the magic flowing into the redhead's gash. Draken hissed as he felt an uncomfortable warm tingling replace the dulled pain as his wound slowly sealed.

"I'd wish that you'd learn to be more patient and not jump into fights so quickly, but that is too much to hope for. So much like your father." The Headmistress commented as she removed her hands, leaving Draken's hand unmarred.

"Well, it comes with the Therath family package." Draken joked lightheartedly.

"Indeed." Headmistress Arya sighed. "Now, because of this incident," she looked pointedly at both Gabriel and Draken, "The three of you will be late. You were supposed to come to the ceremony beforehand so Professor Jaarik may inform you how to conduct yourselves when the Necromancers do come."

"Well, as long as we don't get there too late to greet the Necromancers, we should be fine." Eilazar reassured.

"We will conduct ourselves accordingly, Headmistress. You'll need not to worry." Gabriel nodded.

"Good." The Headmistress didn't look any less disapprovingly at the three young men. "I expect to see you at the ceremony soon. If not, there will be punishment."

A shudder ran up all three of their spines. "Yes, of course!"

She nodded curtly and exited the corridor through a door with a swish of her robes.

Eilazar let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Well, I'll go ahead then." Draken spoke after a moment, looking coldly at Gabriel before stalking off ahead towards where the ceremony was to be held.

"But, wait—" Eilazar moved to follow, but clearly the redhead did not want to be bothered. He called exasperatedly, "Draken!"  
The redhead disappeared around a corner. _Great._ The elf sighed.

He found himself suddenly acutely aware of Gabriel's presence behind him, faintly afraid and disturbed by the brooding elf's outburst earlier. He gulped nervously, feeling heat tinge his ears. Without turning around to face Gabriel, he said, "I think I'm going to start heading to the ceremony too."  
Eilazar waited a moment for Gabriel to say something, but there was only silence. He started walking ahead, and seconds later, heard footsteps catching up to him.

"Wait, Eilazar." Gabriel soft, deep voice spoke near his ear, as a warm hand grasped onto his upper arm. Eilazar's breath hitched, and his face flushed slightly, feeling the elf's warm breath on his ear.

Eilazar turned to face Gabriel, cerulean eyes widened. "Gabriel?"

The taller elf looked hesitant as he took a moment to formulate his words. Gabriel's pale green eyes were averted, not quite meeting Eilazar's. He coughed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I just wanted to say… I'm sorry."

Eilazar blinked owlishly at the dark haired elf. "Huh?"

This was a first. Eilazar was awestruck. Gabriel never apologized about anything to his friends. He has heard Gabriel say "I'm sorry" a few times in the past but only to authority figures like the Headmistress or his father. The broody elf, although very pessimistic, was very prideful, and wasn't very humble overall.  
"I know that what you saw probably frightened you and I didn't take into consideration how my fight with Draken would affect you. I should've been more considerate, and I'm sorry for my actions."

Eilazar stared at Gabriel for a moment longer before his lips began twitching. He pursed his lips, in attempt to stifle a grin. Soon, he just clapped his hand over his mouth and began stifling his chuckles.

Gabriel frowned. "What's so funny?"

Eilazar couldn't answer immediately. He snickered, "Nothing! I'm just proud at how much you've grown and matured!"

Gabriel glowered at the shorter elf. "Really."

Eilazar outright laughed incredulously at this point, using the broody elf to lean on for support.

"Eilazar…" Gabriel sighed. When the elf didn't stop, he repeated more harshly, "Eilazar! Desist! We still need to go to the ceremony soon."

"...Sorry…" Eilazar coughed after catching his breath. "Since when did you change?"

Gabriel stared at Eilazar sternly.

"...Nevermind." The shorter elf shook his head. "Let's go then."

* * *

The atmosphere in the grand circular room could be described as excited and humming with tension as graduating students look forward to becoming an apprentice of a Royal Necromancer.

To Eilazar, the ceremony was overbearingly gloomy and there was this pit in his stomach that seemed to grow larger and larger with every moment. The low hum of chatter sounded like a dull roar to his ears.

Today was not a good day. What if no Royal Necromancer was willing to take him? What if he gets a weak Necromancer? Or worse, a Necromancer who's out to kill him?

...What if he happens to be mentored by someone who took Aeorreth Morthil as his/her other apprentice?

Shit, shit, shit, can he just refuse to be mentored and just focus his career on alchemy? He didn't want this anymore.

"Eilazar." A comforting hand settled on his shoulder, giving him a light squeeze. The elf let out a breath before meeting Gabriel's reassuring eyes. The taller elf smiled at Eilazar. He could only hesitantly smile back. Gabriel peered over the crowds. "The ceremony should start very soon."

As predicted, the voice of Professor Jaarik was heard over the chatter, "All graduating students in this room! Quiet down and—"

The crowd of students didn't hear the graying professor.

"SILENCE!" Everyone winced at the booming voice, magnified by a spell casted upon his throat, and immediately silence fell upon them. "Everyone, stand in formation. This shan't take very long, as most of the necromancy masters have chosen their apprentices beforehand. The ceremony shall proceed in ascending order of rank. Remember to conduct yourselves accordingly. Am I right in assuming everyone is prepared?"

No, Eilazar was not, and he wanted to leave immediately.

"Okay, good. Let us begin." With those dreadful words, the grand double doors swung open, and a large group of necromancers— At least 20, from what Eilazar can tell— entered the room with silent grace. They all took their seats at the front of the room, each occupying a red cushioned chair.

After a few moments, almost the seats were filled. Eilazar could recognize only a few of them, such as Lord Morrylthar and Lord Sailluhn in their stone cold visages. The one seat still unoccupied was the one in the center of them all, where the the Grand Master was to be seated.

There was not yet a sign of Grand Master Morthil.

If they weren't in the presence of the Royal Necromancy Order, Eilazar was certain that hushed whispers would be heard all around by now.

Just as nervousness could be felt in the air, one final moon elf swept into the room, walking with confident steps that echoed through the silent room. Long white, wizened hair, tied back with a black ribbon, stood stark against the long navy blue cloak that billowed about his thin form, as his pale blue eyes swept across the room to survey everyone. Upon reaching his seat, he sat silently, resting his hands on the arms of his seat and crossing his right leg over his left.

Eilazar gulped nervously as Grand Master Peter Morthil nodded to the necromancy master seated at the end, to his left, and gestured for her to begin. The necromancer nodded curtly and stood, before making her way to the center and taking out a scroll from her sleeve. She spoke, her voice commanding as it echoed, "I call Jana Syrin, Vyn Syrin, Indigo Vallisa, and Florin of House Alexandre to come forth."

Once the four graduates stepped to the front, the necromancer spoke once again, "I, Master Alenia Grynethar, have chosen you to be my apprentices. Are you prepared to take oath to bind your loyalties to the Royal Necromancy Order?"

There was a collective "yes."

"Jana Syrin, step forward."

Once the girl did so, Master Grynethar placed her hand on Syrin's shoulder, closed her eyes and murmured something that escaped Eilazar's ears. The girl repeated Master Grynethar's words, and the contact the necromancer's hand made with her shoulder glowed pale gold before fading quickly away.

Eilazar watched in interest as the process was repeated for the other three apprentices, and soon, the next necromancy master was calling his chosen apprentices to the front.

While it was all interesting, Eilazar's anxiety has yet to be quelled and he lost focus on the ceremony, until he heard "I call Draken Therath to come forth."

Eilazar's head snapped up to see Lord Morrylthar at the front, and Draken nervously standing in front of him. Eilazar glanced to see Gabriel's face, but the Morrylthar's face was stoic except the slight surprise in his eyes.

Eilazar could understand why it was surprising. Lord Morrylthar has always had a rivalry with Lord Therath, and not to mention he never actually enjoyed Draken's presence in the full duration of Gabriel and Draken's friendship. Eilazar was looking forward to hearing what Draken thinks of this new apprenticeship.

As Lord Morrylthar took his seat and Draken returned to his position, Lord Sailluhn stood. Feeling Gabriel tense slightly beside him, Eilazar nudged Gabriel slightly and nodded to the taller elf reassuringly, returning his earlier reassurance.

Lord Sailluhn's calm, almost bemused voice announced, "I call forth Aeorreth Morthil,"

Eilazar and Gabriel shared a shocked glance.

"And Eilazar Karaehel."

Eilazar stood stock still with horror, and it took a gentle push from Gabriel (who should've been more shocked than he was) to snap him back to reality and join Aeorreth in the front. The journey to the front of the room felt excruciatingly slow as if felt like he was stepping up toward his death sentence, and blood rushed through his ears with every beat of his heart.

This has to be nightmare. There was no way he can survive apprenticing together with _Aeorreth Morthil_ of all people.

As Eilazar was silently screaming in his mind, he didn't even hear what Lord Sailluhn said to Aeorreth when Aeorreth made the oath. Eilazar could only numbingly step forward when Lord Sailluhn ordered him to do so.

"I, Lord Sailluhn of the Royal Necromancy Order," Lord Sailluhn spoke in a soft register, placing a warm hand on Eilazar's shoulder, "Swear to pass my knowledge onto you and maintain the posterity of our Order. Do you swear to take on my knowledge and use it only for the good of this order and the order of this kingdom?"

Eilazar murmured, "Yes. I, Eilazar Karaehel, swear to take on your knowledge and only use it for the good and order of this order and the kingdom."

With those words, the contact between Lord Sailluhn's hand and his shoulder grew almost unbearingly hot for a second before fading away, and the necromancer released his hold on him. Eilazar, feet heavy as though he just accepted to be chained to a boulder, returned to his position beside Gabriel.

A few more necromancer came to the front to announce their apprentices, and finally there was complete silence as Grand Master Morthil stood and took out his own scroll.

Gabriel was still like a statue, his hands tightened into fists at his sides as he held his breath. Eilazar blinked at Gabriel, confused for a moment at why Gabriel was behaving exactly like this. Wasn't Gabriel just going on about how he'd never be taken as Morthil's apprentice earlier?

Then it hit him.

Everyone else was called forward before Gabriel. And, Grand Master Morthil was the last to stand.

"I, Grand Master Peter Morthil, call Gabriel Morrylthar to come forth."

Eilazar could only stare with wide eyes as Gabriel made his way to the front, back straight and face betraying no emotion.

The ceremony proceeded like the others before, but something was different about this.

There was something more powerful about this, but Eilazar couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

As Gabriel moved his lips slightly as he made his oath quietly and the gold glow hummed between Morthil's hand and his shoulder, something almost dangerous flashed behind the Morrylthar's hard green eyes.


End file.
